


Inner Peace

by forgetful01



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Consensual Mind Control, Consensual Sex, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetful01/pseuds/forgetful01
Summary: Gamzee is in a bad mood. Kurloz knows what can help that.





	Inner Peace

**Author's Note:**

> woah two makaracests in a row? no one is surprised ever  
> thanks to a pal for helping me figure out this nonsense  
> also ay this shit is consensual. its consensual. dont nobody come the fuck at me saying otherwise

He’s got that fucking look on his face again. If you weren’t so boneless in your tiredness at the moment you might have swung a fist in his general direction to get him to fuck off. Instead you muster a sullen sort of scowl and his owlish eyes blink slowly in return. He doesn’t have any pupils which is somehow creepy and comforting because you never can quite tell where he’s looking but you’re pretty damn sure he’s always looking at you. Your dancestor is almost as fucked up as you are. Or he’s even more so and you just don’t care to acknowledge it. Either or.

“The fuck is you looking at?” Came a biting demand and he smiled. The fuck is he doing that for? You’re in one of your _moods_ and you’re also not about to put up with one of his stupid self-imposed silent Charade game. But he knows that as he keeps just far enough distance to avoid being grabbed for a physical altercation. Just as you blink- you’re not quite sure but almost positive- that his eyes flash color. But then you’re looking at him again and it was fucking nothing there again. Oh. That again.

It was his idea to use the voodoos. He never actually said a thing to you but he had asked somehow, through the way he stared into your glowing optics and held the gaze unblinkingly. Not that he blinked much anyway. Or breathed. Sometimes you forgot how fucked it was to even be considering pailing with an undead troll by all technicalities but whatever. You weren’t what the heretical would call ‘conventional’ these days anyway.

But the first time he’d suggested it you’d been calmer of mood and you told him later. Well now was later and you were fighting down the heat in your chest that often came right before your more violent outbursts. If you said no to him again you know that he could stand another round of being your punching bag. Even with that prospect you didn’t feel the need. Whatever was pissing you off, which you still couldn’t determine on your own, had to be dug deeper into to find. You give a vague twitch of your shoulder and he finally takes the spare steps closer to your side and settled on his knees in front of you. You, leaning back lazily on the pile of pillows, didn’t even need to move your head to keep him in your sights. He was taller than you but not really by much.

Kurloz’s hand rests gingerly, as though terrified to actually touch you, on your knee and you don’t kick out despite the initial flight or fight response the physical contact results in. His unblinking look stared fixedly on your expressions as he waited for some sort of repercussion only for you to give the ghost of a nod. “Aight motherfucker. Let’s get ourselves with trying the shit.”

Its a few seconds before you notice any change. The shadows of the room were slightly more pronounced than they initially were and the whiteness of his eyes looked brighter. Your claws instinctively dug into the fabric of the pillows under you but he didn’t move a single muscle. What the fuck was he waiting for? You said to get with-

Pressure. That’s the immediate word that leaps to mind. It feels like a pair of thumbs pressing down on your temples gently, like a massage, but from the motherfucking inside. Under your skin. Within your skull. The sensation has you starting and with a mental force you didn’t even realize you were capable of you shot it back. Bright flashes of color came from the space below your forehead and above your nose to illuminate the room briefly before they vanished and it was the same old red you’d grown accustomed to in that space. Kurloz frowned with a pointed meaning in his lips and you shook your head hard to clear it. “Fuck you, don’t gimme that shit.” You say this as though he’d actually spoken his disapproval. You knew you needed to relax and just accept it. “You try handling this shit.”

He gives a nod and a wave of his hands, one over another. Sooner or later he either had or was offering to. Piece of shit. You take a few more breaths to steady yourself just for good measure and finally raise your eyes to his again. “Aight go ahead.”

Nothing immediately. Just this weird warmth, like a summer breeze by the sands of a shore that barely had any breeze to it and more lingered around you as a thin and breathable fog. Then the same pressure as before. At least this time you were ready for the sensation. It moved in and out and swelled and pushed through the expanse of your skull until your head felt full of very warm and heavy pillows. Just when you had the idea that maybe you would find this easier if your eyes were shut you realized you couldn’t blink.

Kurloz’s eyes were glowing flashes of purple and pink, the colors soft and bright and taking up your vision. When had that started? You tried to raise your arm to rub your eyes in an attempt to blink. You couldn’t so much as twitch a muscle. Oh fuck, it had already started. Okay, you were fine with this. You told the motherfucker so. Was all good. Was chill. He raised himself up slightly and sat back, his legs spread out over the concrete floor. He raised one hand to pat his thigh encouragingly and your body started to react. As though moving through slumber you shifted forward onto your hands and knees and crawled to him. His smile was twisted now- a way you had never seen it. It was a complete opposite to the passive and indulgent look he often donned around you. The sight of it had your thoughts seizing to a summation of ‘Oh motherfuck yes, keep looking down on me like that,’ but you couldn’t voice them. Your vision was perfect and you could feel the sensation of your skin moving under your clothes or your bare feet scuffing over the roughly paved flooring but it all felt so detached.

You climbed onto his lap passively, obediently and Kurloz’s hand rose to card through your hair. A compulsion struck you, to lay your head on his shoulder. By the time you processed the need to do it you had already carried out the physical act. He was already giving you silent commands and you were complying with them faster than you could understand what your body was doing of his own will. It was the strangest feeling you’d ever experienced and you wanted more of it.

**Easy now.**

You tried to jerk back at the sound of the voice but nothing moved and nothing gave. Almost instantly you understood where it had come from. From the recesses of your own mind, from where Kurloz had entered from. The voice belonged to him and it was much smoother than you would have ever imagined. Your body was already relaxed against his frame as his free hand palmed flat over your chest, down your stomach, over your hips. You tried to follow its path with your eyes but no, he was keeping those up at you. He knew how prolonged eye contact often left you feeling impotent and unnerved but that was exactly why he was doing it now, the motherfucker. He probably wouldn’t get another chance at this for a long while.

**Moan.**

Oh that was an easy command. Your mouth fell open of its own accord and the faint moans fell free. In any ordinary situation he was lucky if he got any sounds at all until the final act of climax. The fog in your mind pushed down firmer than before, feeling more like thick warm sand that buried your limbs and thoughts down to a quiet nothingness. Then he blinked and your eyes dropped. You finally could see what the culprit of the pressure around the folds of your nook was.

Only it wasn’t his hand as you had expected. It was your own. Your pants were halfway pushed down your thighs (when the fuck had that happened) and your two of your fingers were pushed deep inside yourself. But the pleasure your body was experiencing was not linked to your own thoughts. It was very much observational. You watched with fascination at the slickness that slipped between your propped open legs, one draped over the inside of his elbow, and saw the rhythmic thrusting of the digits. Oh mother _fuck_ you were not used to that. Nothing against nooks but you was more a tug ‘n jerk sort of brother. Barely never touched your nook in any truth. Now you could only watch as your hands went to town on yourself as though never intending to stop.

What was that noise? Something was loud and animalistic, primal in desperation and arousal. It sounded like some sort of feral creature in the throngs of heat. Something wet dropped from your chin to your shirt and you recognized the translucent color. You were motherfucking crying. The noises were your own and they weren’t to be stopped. Your body was in a complete state of vulnerability. It was the scariest thing you could imagine and it was fucking _hot_.

Kurloz leaned in to kiss away the tears you had no control in stopping and again you leaned in closer to his physical affections. To feel yourself being affectionate like this, even on a basic level, left you feeling breathless and overwhelmed. You forgot how good it felt. You had forgotten so much.

Your bulge was free now and he had his gloved hand around it, pumping the length with an agonizing languidness. It was far slower than you’d ever worked yourself and if you could you probably would have motherfucking begged him to pick the fucking pace up or let you get at yourself the right way.  Your mouth was still hanging open and the sobbing moans that hit the air had yet to stop. _‘Come the fuck on!’_ You yelled into the sand-fog. _‘Come on, come on, come on!’_

**Patience, brother.**

You hadn’t expected an answer. Just hearing one, once again confirming that Kurloz could hear and see everything in your mind you had never expected anybody to witness, nearly had you coming. You would have too if it weren’t for the disconnection between your own mental libido and your physical actions. The hand Kurloz still has in your hair was petting slowly, the tips of his fingers going in slow and soothing circles over the sensitive skin where your horns forced their way through. Abruptly there was a new sound. It was almost the same as the cries and moans you had been giving almost since this had started. But now it was articulated. It was your voice, your words.

“Motherfucker keep on touchin’ me, I want you to be touchin’ me,” Kurloz was smiling broadly now, in approval. He’d taken great care to lower and lower you until there was nothing to hide. And now your wants and wishes were spilling out of yourself and all you could do was stare into his eyes as your mouth moved and your fingers pushed harder into your nook. “Wanting on that shit bad enough to feel my ache down in myself, come on invertibrother-“

There was no silencing yourself. There was nothing to hide. Kurloz saw it all, had it all. Abruptly the connection snapped, your head fell back and everything felt suddenly far too motherfucking _real._ The vague feelings of pleasure gathering in the pit of your stomach was a fire that engulfed your entire senses and your head whipped back and forth as you screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice felt hoarse. And then, a snap of lightning in your mind. Blackness.

 

Warmth. Petting. Kurloz was petting you.

 

Your eyes flicked blearily open. You were naked in his lap and wrapped in the softest motherfucking blanket you think you ever felt. “What the… motherfuck...”

He sat up immediately, eyes shining with concern when he heard your voice. Before you could get another word out he was shoving a bottle of water past your lips and you drank from it as though your life depended on it, its contents drained in an unnerving amount of time. When it was empty he tossed it to the side and resumed petting your hair.

“Fuckin’ shit..” Your words were sluggish and you could still feel the post-orgasm tingling in your limbs. You had to ask anyway. “Did I motherfuckin’... you know. Finish?”

He nods to your question.

“Oh. Did you?”

He nods again, much slower than before.

You sigh and feel the warmth surrounding you. So he’d cleaned you up after you passed out, got you comfortable, and kept watch until you awoke. If you weren’t so motherfucking tired you’d probably laugh in his face. All you can manage is a nod as you let your eyes slip shut again and hunker down into the blanket. “Thanks, motherfucker. Feeling better.”

You don’t need to look to know that he’s smiling.


End file.
